Something to Remember
by Pickles
Summary: A Yamcha-Tien fic!! They're such a cute couple!! From Yamcha's POV. I have a matching fic from Tien's POV, it's not as funny but it's sweeter.


This involves a yaoi pairing. If you have problems with that, don't read this.  
And I mean it. I really seriously mean it. If you send me a flame and it's because I  
used a yaoi pairing, I will send it back to you cussing at you in three different  
languages saying I frickin' warned you, you stupid @$$!!!!!!! It's Tien-Yamcha. I  
think we all know there's something going on there. I'm just guessing as to what it is.  
All standard disclaimers apply. I do NOT own DBZ, its characters or its  
trademarks. They belong to Funimation, Akira Toriyama, Pioneer, and so forth. I made no  
profit off of writing this. There's no point in suing, I don't have any money anyway.  
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Something to Remember  
  
  
By Mako-chan the 384th  
  
  
I looked at the woman in front of me. Large for a woman, yet still small to me,  
and dressed like a slut, as always. Her hair looked like a wig a waitress in a strip  
joint would wear. Excepting the fact that it was real. I ought to know. I pulled it once.  
"You can't mean it!" she said angrily, balling her hands into fists. "You can't  
break up with me!"  
"Why not?" I asked her coolly. "I've been waiting for you to break up with me for  
a year now. Only you haven't done it, and frankly, I can't stand you."  
"Because, Yamcha, you--you just can't do that! Nobody's ever broken up with me  
before!" she shouted.  
"There's a first time for everything," I informed her casually. "Now, if you will  
please excuse me, I'm leaving." I started walking out, grabbing my jacket and swinging it  
over my shoulder. Then I added, as an afterthought, "Oh, and I'm taking my car, too."  
"NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!" she screamed, at the top of her lungs. "You can't take the car."  
"I can, Bulma, and I am." Smirking, I walked out. "Toodles." I waved cutely, and  
ducked the vase that I knew was coming at me. Predictably, there was a crash, and it was  
right where I had stood. Whistling, I walked out the door.  
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I looked for the nearest bar. I was in the mood for celebrating. I had taken my car  
and parked it in its long empty spot in the parking garage, then went and called every  
single female that had so much as glanced at me during the 'Bulma Years.' More than several  
of them had as much as said that the next time they saw me, they were going to drag me home  
with them and do bad things to me. Yet for some reason it didn't excite me as much as it  
should have. And I had to do *something* to express my happiness, so here I was, walking  
around town, looking for a bar. I was planning to drink myself into oblivion.  
Ah, here was one. And I heard music. The perfect place to celebrate. I stepped in,  
not really looking around me, and walked up to the bar. Sitting down, I stared at my hands  
for a moment. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I responding to women like I had before? I  
ran a hand through my black hair. Bowl cut, I personally thought it was the best look I had  
ever had. That is, the best look a guy with a huge scar across his face could have. Oh  
well. At least my almost black eyes made up for it.  
"Well, cutie, what'll it be?" I heard someone ask me.  
"Beer. What else?" I replied without looking up.  
"Any particular kind?" they asked.  
"Killian's Red, hon," I answered. Then I looked up. The bartender was a-- a guy? I  
had just called a guy 'hon.' He was kind of cute too, as he winked at me, his long red  
hair brushing the counter. Some part of my mind stirred at this. What in the hell was I  
doing, thinking things like that? It was true, the other half of me argued back. At this  
point my personality piped in. Shut up, you two, I just want a good drink, I told them.  
They complied, and the bartender came back with a nice big twenty ounce glass of Killian's  
Red. "Thanks," I told him, lifting it to my lips and sipping. I wouldn't have bothered  
sipping, but it was really full, and I didn't want to make a fool out of myself by spilling.  
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around. "Do I know-" They stopped when  
they saw my face. It was Tien. I grinned.  
"Hey, Tien!" I said happily. I held the Killian's out to him. "Want some?"  
He looked confused for a second, then said, "Yeah, sure." Sitting on the seat next  
to me, he took my glass and drank. "What are you doing here?" he asked me, swallowing. "I  
mean, I didn't think that you were......" He trailed off.  
It was my turn to be confused. I looked around. Oh, great. I had walked into one of  
*those* bars. There were no females anywhere in my line of vision, although a few guys that  
could easily be mistaken as such to the untrained eye. I thought fast. Why don't you just  
say you feel at home here? the one part of my mind asked me, the one that had thought the  
bartender was cute. After all, you do go for guys. That part of my mind seemed to have a  
pretty good grasp of me. I grabbed my beer back and took a swig this time. Between the two  
of us, I had enough room to do that now. "Yeah, well, me and Bulma just broke up, and I'm  
celebrating by getting myself gloriously drunk," I said, holding up the Killian's. "Plus,  
you know, I figured it was time to explore a few new horizons." God, did I just say that?  
Somebody stop me in my tracks, please!!  
Tien broke out into a grin. "Yeah?" he asked. Then he pointed to my clothes. "You're  
not really dressed for the occasion, though."  
I looked at what he was wearing. He was wearing skin tight pleather pants that must  
have taken him hours to work into, and a large loose shirt made out of some soft-looking  
shiny material. I looked around. Everyone here was dressed similarly. Excepting, of course,  
me. "I'm not, am I," I murmered, not really a question. One of my hands snaked out without  
my permission and rubbed a small fold of his shirt. "I didn't know I was supposed to dress  
differently. Maybe you can help me out there," I told him. My mind was racing. What in the  
hell was I doing?  
"Sure," he said. "You know, I thought I was the only one in our little group who was  
this way."  
I thought on that. "I wouldn't be so sure," I told him. "After all, I didn't know  
about you." It didn't really surprise me, though, I had to admit. He had never really showed  
interest in girls.  
The conversation died. We had a few more. I was drunk at this point. I knew it. But  
for some reason, I kept ordering more. Things were getting fuzzy. I went to use the bathroom,  
and I really don't recall much after that. Except for maybe a few hours later sitting in  
Tien's arms, laying back against his shoulder. I don't even remember that very well, just the  
way it felt.  
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I woke up to what had to have been the worst hangover in my life. The curtains were  
open, and the light was burning into my eyes. I closed my eyes. Wait a minute. I didn't have  
curtains, I had blinds. What was the deal?  
I heard someone groan underneath me. The light disappeared, and a voice said, "Much  
better." Wait a sec. I knew that voice. Tien?  
Slowly the events of last night-- or some of them-- came back to me. I didn't even  
remember getting there. Oh my god. Trying to be subtle about it, I reached down and felt for  
any clothing I might be wearing. Nothing. Not even my boxers. Oh my GOD!!!! Tien was a really  
good friend of mine, probably my best friend. I didn't remember anything. Nothing at all. I  
couldn't even remember which end of things I had been on. This could not be happening. What  
was I supposed to do? Just tap him on the shoulder and say "Excuse me, but I don't remember  
sleeping with you, could you tell me about it?"  
Tien's hand shot out from under the covers and reached for something. "Damn. Where did  
that Advil go?"  
That part of my mind took over again. My hand traced Tien's arm up to his hand. "Don't  
worry about it. We can sleep it off."  
Tien stiffened. "Yamcha?"  
So he didn't remember either then. Well, at least I wasn't alone in that. Finally just  
letting that part of my mind take over completely, I snuggled against him. He was warm, and  
his body relaxed against mine. "It's okay, Tien. I don't remember either."  
He sighed with relief. "I was hoping at least one of us would remember, but it makes  
it less embarrassing that we both don't remember." He groaned. "Damn, I hate hangovers."  
"So do I," I told him. He put his arms around me, holding me close. Wait a minute. Me  
snuggling, him holding me? I suddenly had a *very* good idea which end of things I had been  
on. It wasn't the way I had really thought about, either. But then, I had never thought about  
having a relationship with Tien before. Had never even *considered* it. Maybe, I thought,  
suddenly fretful, this would be a one night stand. God, I hoped not. I had never had one  
before, and I wasn't planning on starting now.  
"This feels so right," he murmered, easing off a bit. It was reluctantly, I could  
tell. "Do you want some coffee?" he asked, changing the subject completely.  
"Not really," I said, "but I think I should. Maybe it would help with the hangover  
just a tad bit."  
He groaned, sitting up. At which point I found our legs entwined almost to the point  
that they would not come apart. After three or so minutes of moving around, we managed to  
untangle ourselves. "If I have to get up, you do," he said semi-cheerfully. It would have  
been completely cheerfully if it weren't for the hangover.  
"Fine then. Give me your robe or something," I demanded, holding my hand out.  
"What?" he asked, surprised.  
"If anybody's going to have to wrap your sheets around their waist, it's going to  
be you," I told him, chuckling a bit. "So hand it over."  
He grunted. "Fine." He stood up, and moved to the other side of the room, grabbing  
a sheet as he went. He tossed me something that felt like terrycloth. At least, it felt  
like terrycloth to my face. He had, of course, thrown it to me so that it draped itself  
over my head, and my reflexes were never good in the morning, even less so when I had a  
hangover.  
"Tien, don't throw things at me in the morning," I said, my voice muffled even  
to me. I heard him laughing at me through the robe. Standing up myself, I slid the robe  
on and tied it. Damn. I had never realized just how much *bigger* than me Tien was until  
I wore his robe. We both stepped out of the door.  
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I sipped at my coffee, still wincing. I don't know if he had remembered to use  
lube on me or not, but it was now *painfully* apparent which end of things I had been on.  
I looked up at him. "I would take that Advil now," I said quietly, trying to find a  
comfortable way to sit.  
Tien looked at me and noticed my discomfort. "What's wrong, Yamcha?" he asked,  
coming around to my side of the table and draping an arm around me. I did feel better when  
he did that, I have to admit. Even so, I was still in pain.  
"I hurt," I told him, grimacing. He hugged me close, and seeing as he was  
supporting my weight a little, I felt better. Just a little bit, though.  
"Where?" he said. I don't know what he was thinking when he said that. Maybe he  
thought I had a scar or something that gave me trouble occasionally, I don't know. But I  
gave him this look. I've never been sure what that look looks like, since I can never  
achieve it when I'm watching a mirror. But it must say 'you are such an idiot' or  
something, because he sweatdropped. "Oh. Sorry," he said. I'm not sure if he was  
apologizing for making me hurt or being stupid about it; I'll have to ask him about it  
one day. I think it was a little bit of both, though. Then he said something kind of  
weird. "Stand up."  
"Wha-- okay." I stood up, and he deposited himself in my chair. I gave him a  
different look this time, one that I know says 'you've gone nuts.' I have achieved that  
one in front of a mirror before. He got the message loud and clear, because he  
sweatdropped again.  
He patted his thigh. "Come sit down now. Maybe it'll be a little better than  
sitting on hardwood."  
I was beginning to feel a little weird about all of this. I mean, sure, we had  
been physically comfortable with each other earlier that morning, but that was because  
when we woke up, we were about as close as two people can get when they're both asleep. He  
was feeling a little weird about it all too, I could tell from the look on his face. Don't  
ask me how, I just knew. Moving slowly, I sat down on his lap. He was right. It was better  
than sitting on hardwood.  
I grabbed my coffee mug again and started sipping at it. Then I realized he had  
left his coffee on the other side of that table. Turning around, I grinned at him (the  
closest I could ever come the the famous Son smile) and held it up. "Hey, Tien," I said.  
"Want some?"  
He laughed. "Haven't we had this conversation before?" He took the mug, and sipped  
at it himself, then handed it back to me. I put it down then, staring at my hands. Things  
seemed to be going in a reverse of what had happened last night.  
Until Tien turned it right back around.  
He kissed my neck gently, then the little hollow right between my neck and shoulder.  
"You are so beautiful," he murmered, sliding one hand up to play with my hair, sending the  
other one around my middle tightly to almost crush my abdomen. I turned my head and my  
mouth met his in a heady kiss. He tasted like coffee at the moment, dark mocha.  
"Ease up around my abs, wouldya?" I managed to get out somehow. This stopped  
everything in its tracks as he pulled away from me.  
"Sorry, Yamcha," he apologized. "I wasn't meaning for things to get started again  
this morning. Or ever, really."  
"Please tell me you don't mean that," I asked him, grabbing the hand in my hair.  
He stared at me.  
"No. Only I thought that you wouldn't.... want me anymore," he said gently, looking  
at the floor, which suddenly must have become very interesting.  
"Why not?" I asked him. "For one, I can't even remember having you in the first  
place." This sounded especially cold even in my ears, and I scrambled to make up for it.  
"And for two," I added, turning his face towards mine, "I never have a one night stand."  
This still wasn't sounding very good, so I tried one last time. "And for three," I said,  
kissing him, "I like you too much for that."  
"Really?" he said. He smiled a little. "You mean it?"  
"Definitely," I told him. He kissed me this time. When he finally let me up for a  
little air, I said, "Now tell me more about myself."  
"Egomaniac," he said affectionately. "I wonder how much hairgel you use a day."  
"Not as much as you would think," I smiled.  
"Well, however much it is, keep it up." He grinned at me, the closest *he* could  
ever come to the Son smile. "You look really great." Then he started kissing my neck again.  
Wonderful as it felt, I had to make a self deprecating comment at that point.  
"From the neck down, maybe," I muttered. He stopped.  
"What did you say?" he asked.  
"Nothing," I said.  
"No, I heard that," he said. "Why would you think that?"  
I really couldn't think of a way to say what my problem really was. My hand slid  
to his, and guided it to the rough lines of my scarred visage. He understood immediately.  
Bending his head down, he went and kissed every single inch of it. My eyes filled. How did  
he know exactly what would make me feel better about that?  
"Do you believe me now?" he asked softly. Almost crying, I nodded. He smiled.  
"Good." Tien kissed me again. "Let's go into the bedroom," he suggested. I nodded again.  
Standing up and still kissing, we stumbled to his bedroom door and closed it. I remembered  
it this time. 


End file.
